Felt poetic after church and wanted to write a bit.
In the Quiet Moments
Felt poetic after church and wanted to write a bit.
Bridging the gap between Christianity, life, and mental health
Felt poetic after church and wanted to write a bit.
First things first: Dylan Whittler isn't my real name. For those who have been following this blog for longer than a year, this revelation probably does not shock you. What you do not know, however, is why I chose to write under a pseudonym (translation: pen name). ~ It's not as if I hadn't considered... Continue Reading →
It starts with a kiss or a touch, always quick, like an accidental brushstroke of painful memories on a virgin canvas. Oops. Did I trigger you with intrusive memories while you were trying to sleep? My bad. Hush, now. Shhh. It’s okay. Just a nightmare. Fine me when you’re awake for the terrible things I... Continue Reading →
The wooden figurine of Christ nailed to the cross hangs right behind my dad’s pulpit and always gives me the creeps. Maybe because it’s a constant reminder of my sin and worthlessness apart from Christ, which on other days would give me hope, but not today. Today, the cross mocks me. Maybe it’s the condemnation... Continue Reading →
Here's to poor decisions: to eating 1/2 of a chocolate bar at an old typewriter, mistaking a machine for a friend, or worse yet, a lover. Here's to "doing the passionate thing" and majoring in Creative Writing when everyone knows—sorry, assumes— that STEMs (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics degrees) get the good jobs, fancy houses,... Continue Reading →